


School days’ Friendship, Childhood Innocence

by CrispyCrispin



Category: Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare
Genre: Because it will take a while for the gay, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Rewrite, Slow Burn, but it will be there, i guess?, it's gonna be gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-10 15:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrispyCrispin/pseuds/CrispyCrispin
Summary: What if the women of Athens were more supportive of each other? What if the men were more open? What if I wrote Midsummer Night's Dream?I saw a performance and thought it was dumb that Helena and Hermia didn't band together when the guys had been enchanted so I decided to give myself a project and rewrite Midsummer Night's Dream. The changes are mostly small things at the start but it will get more dramatic toward the end.





	1. The Problem - A1S1P1

The streets of Athens were busier than usual. Preparations were well underway for the Duke’s approaching marriage to Hippolyta, the defeated Amazon queen. Spirits were high with the prospect of celebration. However, this joy was not felt inside the Duke’s court four days before the happy day. Egeus, a portly man with greying hair, had demanded an audience with Duke Theseus.

“Good afternoon, my Lord. I’m afraid I come to you in a state of rage. This is my daughter, Hermia.” At this, he gestured to a young lady, petite in stature with a smattering of freckles across her skin. She held herself like an educated lady and her face was attractive, though her eyes were currently red and puffy.

“Her disobedience is the cause of my anger. I wish for her to marry this fine young gentleman, Demetrius.” With this, Egeus drew attention to the two young men who accompanied him. One had broad shoulders and a face made of sharp angles but not an unfriendly appearance. He held himself with confidence and bowed when addressed. The other gentleman had an air of almost charming arrogance and a face that was comfortable wearing a smug grin. When Demetrius straightened, it was clear he had several inches over the other man.

“This man is a respectable bachelor and has my blessing to marry fair Hermia. However, Lysander here,” the shorter man gave a slight bow of the head and wide smile in acknowledgment, “This knave has stolen her heart with lies and false gifts. This loon has deceived my daughter and turned her against me. This barnacle has given her poems, sung her songs, and given more gifts than one could count! This haggard has- “

“Egeus! That is quite enough.” Theseus raises a hand, giving the father a stern look. “What do you want from me?”

“Forgive me, my lord. I wish to call on the right of Athens and have Hermia executed if she does not agree to marry Demetrius.” Hermia gave a half-sob, half-yell in indignation. She looked close to tears but stayed strong, thanks to a comforting grip from Hippolyta. The older woman gave Hermia a knowing look of sympathy.

Fury crossed Lysander’s face but he managed to withhold from acting out. Demetrius also appeared upset by this request and chose to speak up. “Sir, do you not think that this is an extreme reaction? I love Hermia with all my heart and hope dearly that she will choose me and I can not bear the thought of losing her. Surely there is a kinder alternative?”

Egeus looks to disagree but Theseus interrupts before he can, “I agree. Perhaps a life as a nun is more appropriate in this situation? So, what do you say, Hermia? Will you yield to your father’s wishes?”

“I beg your forgiveness, my lord, but I cannot agree. Lysander is as worthy a gentleman, if not greater. Does it mean nothing that he has my heart?”

“I’m afraid that your father’s blessing has a far greater value. Demetrius is more than eligible. Don’t forget, it is your duty as a daughter to follow your father’s wishes. He created you, gave you life, and has provided for you ever since. It is only fair that he has a say on which man cares for you next.” Egeus seemed placated by this argument, confident that the duke was on his side.

“A say, yes, but that is all. I have heard what he has to say and I disagree.” Desperation filled Hermia’s voice. She had the tired look of someone who’s repeated themself too many times to no avail. “Lysander is the man for me. I could never love Demetrius as much as he does me. Would it not be cruel and unfair to marry him?”

“Hermia, my love, please reconsider? Truly, would you choose life as a nun, separated from all male company over me? What more could I do to prove my love?” Demetrius made to approach Hermia but Lysander quickly placed himself between them. “Lysander, give up this fruitless endeavour! You will never have Hermia! End this fool’s errand.” Spat Demetrius.

Hermia moved out from behind Lysander, giving him a confused glare while addressing Demetrius. “You have proven your love plenty, just as I have proven my lack of love for you. It changes nothing.”

“Anyway, this is no fool’s errand. Can’t you see that I am winning this battle? I have won Hermia’s heart, you’ve merely won over her father!” The smug grin on Lysander’s face only added to Demetrius’ rage. Theseus decided the time for discussion was quickly ending.

“Masters, settle down. I have other matters to attend to and this is getting us nowhere. Hermia has until… let us make it the day of my marriage to make her choice. After those four days, she shall choose either to marry Demetrius or to live out her days in the convent. Now, Lysander, Hermia, I must ask that you leave us, we have other issues to attend to.” And with that, Theseus turned away and made his way towards a table with many scrolls and parchments scattered across it. Egeus quickly followed, as did Demetrius with a sharp glare at Lysander. Hippolyta trailed behind but not before meeting Hermia’s gaze once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please yell at me to update if you liked it.  
> Also, let me know what you think of the changes I've made, the characterisations, all that jazz.  
> This is my first multi-chapter story.  
> The thing after the chapter title means it's Act 1 Scene 1 Part 1 (I split some scenes up for better flow.)


	2. The Plan - A1S1P2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysander plans with Hermia.  
> Helena makes her own plan.

Lysander was boiling, barely keeping from bubbling over, but a look at Hermia brought him back to a simmer.

“Hermia, my love, I will never allow you to suffer. We will find a solution. I swear, on Cupid’s bow!” He gripped her hand tightly, trying to convey his sincerity.

For several minutes there was nothing but sniffles in response. Hermia extracted a hankie from her sleeve, turning away to wipe her nose before managing a reply.

“But what on Earth could we do? I have prayed to every god I could think of, begging they change my father’s mind to agree with me, or else change my heart to agree with him.” Lysander was shocked by this confession but Hermia continued, “It is my opinion that finding a happy solution is as likely as meeting a fairy in the woods.”

Hermia looked to Lysander in desperation and hope but he did not meet her gaze. A distracted look had been brought on by her words.

“The woods… yes, perhaps that’s it.” A grin started to grow.

“What’s it? What are you thinking, my love?”

“Hermia, you’re a genius! The woods! Of course!” Lysander chuckled to himself, smiling at Hermia. Then he swiftly wrapped his arms around her and lifted her in what would be a graceful swirl if she had been in any way prepared. The praises kept flowing from Lysander’s lips as he kept spinning in joy.

“Lysander, please, I’m thrilled that you’re thrilled and your words are most pleasing but please set me down on solid ground and explain yourself. I’m getting a little dizzy.”

“Oh, sorry.” He quickly complied, steadying Hermia. He even had the decency to look slightly ashamed, although only slightly. “What I meant was, why don’t we run away through the woods? If we travel far enough, the Athenian law won’t be able to follow us. Hermia,” Lysander knelt before her, taking her hand once more, “Please, run away with me. Let’s go and never stop running! We will be free an- “

“Lysander,” Hermia began with a smile, “Lysander, you fool. You sweet, naïve, love-sick fool!” Her words were harsh but her tone was that of pity and disappointment. “We can’t run forever. How would we live? What would we eat and drink?” Lysander attempted to explain but Hermia kept going, “Where would we sleep at night? What if the duke sent men after us? Or we got lost? Lysander,” She met his gaze now and spoke softer. “I love you, with all my heart and I want to live with you, cook with you, wake up next to you in a house we own together. Not cower and hide and sleep on dirt. I want to follow you anywhere but I need to know what lies at the end.”

Lysander took a moment to ponder her words. He was honoured and delighted by Hermia’s confession of love but she did have a valid point. His plan was flawed. A life in the woods was no real life. Running away would not work. Unless…

“Hermia, perhaps… yes, I think I might have a destination. An aunt of mine lives in the countryside outside of Athens. She has no children, no husband, and thus welcomes any company. I am confident she would happily greet us and offer her home and beds. Will that work, my love?”

Hermia took her time to imagine this new plan. A house far from the criticising eyes of Athens. It was a pleasant vision. And Lysander seemed confident in its chance of success. As she continued to weigh up the risks and rewards, his confidence waned but the warm smile on Hermia’s face silenced his doubts. She was in a good silence. A Day-Dreaming-About-The-Future silence.

“Lysander, that sounds wonderful. And you are certain she’ll allow it?” A certain nod. “Brilliant! When shall we leave? My goodness, I must pack! What should I bring?”

“Tonight, my dear. We shall leave this town and all who are part of it behind. Bring nothing but your love for me. Let them think we have been whisked away by those fanciful fairies of yours. Meet in the grove in the woods this very night. Soon we shall be free, I promise it,” Lysander whispered against Hermia’s ear, holding her close.

They enjoyed the embrace for, honestly, a ridiculous length of time, only separating when Hermia noticed the form of her dear friend, Helena. At first, she was thrilled, eager to share the joy of their plan but this was soon dampened by the look on Helena’s face, along with the realisation of what she would be leaving behind.

“My dear Helena,” Hermia moved towards her with caution, ignoring Lysander’s questioning look, “Whatever is troubling you?”

“What else but my hopeful heart and Demetrius’ stubborn one. What do you have that makes you greater than I?” Helena looked down with pleading eyes.

This was a common mood of Helena’s and Hermia knew how this conversation would go. Sometimes, Hermia resented her friend for being so desperate and almost accusing when it was no fault of Hermia’s that Demetrius followed her. She had tried to tell Helena many times but it was yet to sink in. Today would likely be just another failed attempt. Hermia just hoped they would both see the humour of all this in the end and be able to laugh about it together.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. I insult him and deny him yet he will not give up. No matter how loud I yell or how sweetly I beg, he will not leave. It is no help that my father encourages him.”

Helena lets out a long, suffering sigh. “If only my compliments and invitations were as sweet as you, my whispers and pleads just as pleasant.”

“Dear Helena,” A smile crosses Hermia’s face as she starts to change tactic, “Have you tried denying him? This topsy-turvy man seems to hear the opposite of what is said, at least for you and me.”

A dramatic pause for comedic effect.

“Have you tried making your father fall for him? That has definitely been a key component. My father seems almost as eager to marry Demetrius as he is for Demetrius to marry me.”

Helena looked back in shock, simply blinking for a couple seconds. Then the realisation spread across her face and she let out a chuckle. “You jester. I suppose I haven’t tried that, perhaps I will give it a go.” She now has a warm smile on her face.

Seeing Helena’s mood brighten, Lysander decides now is his moment to interrupt. He clears his throat, “Helena, perhaps I can help with more good news. Demetrius shall soon be yours as Hermia and I are fleeing so he will have no choice but to give up!” He grinned that smug grin of his.

Hermia turned on him and gave a sharp strike to his arm. “Lysander! What happened to not telling a soul? Disappearing without a trace?” There was only slight anger behind her words, though Lysander’s arm was smarting.

Helena was once again shocked. “You’re…. leaving? When? Why? Hermia, you weren’t going to tell me?” She turned to face her friend with a mix of hurt and betrayal and was met with shame and sadness.

Lysander looked to begin explaining but a sharp look from Hermia changed his course. “I’ll… wait over here while Hermia explains…” He walked off, looking uncertain and rubbing his leg.

“Helena, my dear friend, I would have told you, I swear! I just… I don’t know.” Hermia took a deep breath, trying to order her thoughts. Helena simply waited. “My father’s love is too strong. He brought the issue before the Court of Athens. Helena, I wish there was another way but I risk not only losing Lysander but my life as well. I’m so sorry. You’re right, I should have told you. It does not please me to leave you and all of Athens behind. Please,” She took Helena’s hands in her own, “Forgive me? I’ll be sure to write to you! And perhaps you can come to visit! But you mustn’t tell anyone of our plan! Please?”

Helena took her time taking in these words. The situation was grave and Hermia truly was at risk. She looked so upset, Helena was willing to believe her apology, even if it wasn’t all fine.

“Of course, I forgive you. And I will not tell, but you must keep your word and send letters! I will not have you forgetting me and leaving me out of the gossip you learn.” Helena forces a smile on to her face.

The joy and relief lit up Hermia’s face and she embraced her dearest friend. “Thank you! Thank you so much! I will send a letter every week- no, every day!” They both laugh, normality restored almost. When they move apart, Hermia continues, more serious but still joyful, “Please, come to say goodbye? We’re meeting in the grove in the woods, the one you and I have spent many hours in before. Will you come and wish me luck?”

With a short nod, Helena replies “I will be there.”

“Thank you.” It’s more of a whisper but the love rings clear.

They stay still for a short time, letting the moment last. Then Hermia lets go with a giggle and moves towards Lysander. Helena stays still a moment longer before following her.

“Everything is sorted and settled and the plan is set. Tonight, we run away and leave the law of Athens behind us. But for now, we must part our ways, my love. Until tonight.” With this, Hermia blows a kiss towards Lysander, waves at Helena, and leaves.

Lysander has a more innocent grin on his face now but remembers Helena’s presence and manages a quick goodbye, “Farewell, and may Demetrius see the true wonder you are.” And with that, Helena is alone once more.

She was perhaps no happier than she was before seeing her friend. To think that Hermia was so willing to up and leave and without a word of it to Helena. She was so blinded by her own love and problems that she would leave behind Helena, a childhood friend, who knew more secrets than Lysander ever could. Helena, who had spent many moonlit eves with Hermia (in the very grove they shall meet tonight) laughing, sewing, simply being together beneath the stars. Hermia would throw all that away without even a note explaining why. It made Helena’s heart ache.

Perhaps there was a supposedly good reason for it. Now Helena would have to pretend she knew nothing of the plan while they got to happily disappear behind a glorious sunset. Oh, how unfair this all was. Sure, she may now have Demetrius’ sole attention but for what loss? What if all it succeeds in doing is upsetting Demetrius? Putting him in a miserable mourn for the one that got away? That would only add to Helena’s losses. That’s it. This plan can proceed no further. Helena decided to let slip to Demetrius. He would make Hermia stay and perhaps put Helena on his good side. She could only hope her friend would forgive her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few chapters written so I really wanted to post more and see what people think. I don't think I'll have an actual set schedule but I am planning to upload frequently.  
> As always, let me know what you think :)


	3. The Play - A1S2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cast list is assigned.

Across town, in a small dining room, six men met to begin a play. These were not men of high standing, nor men with great minds. They each spent their days working hard at their chosen professions but the upcoming wedding offered an opportunity. A wedding requires entertainment and what better entertainment than a play? So, posters advertising the roles had been posted and those willing to have a try had added their name to the list. Now they had gathered together in the house of Peter Quince, the carpenter and director.

Quince was an older man, but still young at heart. He was passionate about the dramatic arts and eager to show the town what he could create. He only hoped the cast would share a similar attitude.

“Is everyone here? Is anyone else expected?” Quince began.

“Why not call out the names and see who is missing?” This suggestion came from Nick Bottom, an infamous man of town. He was always happy to give his opinion, even when others did not want it. This self-importance did encourage Bottom to take pride in his appearance, making him by far the best dressed. Perhaps this owed to his fine weaving giving him a well-trained eye. People’s only complaints about his work were that they had to talk to Bottom to get it.

“Of course. I have here the list of all those who wished to partake in this fine production. I shall- “

“-Why don’t you tell us what the play is to be about? Then let us know our roles and thus be done all at once?”

This earned Bottom a glare from Quince but he seemed to not notice, or rather not care. Clearing his throat, Quince continued in his best attempt at an assertive voice. “The play we will be performing is called ‘The Most Lamentable Comedy and Most Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisbe.’”

“That is a fine piece of work. An incredible story which is most amusing. Now Quince, call out each actor’s name and tell them what role they shall be playing.” Bottom instructed.

Quince’s blood was beginning to boil. He was starting to regret making the play open to any man who was willing. “Listen up then. Nick Bottom, the weaver?”

“That is me. Now, what role shall I- “

“-You’ll be playing Pyramus.” Bottom opened his mouth to ask but Quince was quickly catching on. “Pyramus is the lover, a most noble man who kills himself for his love.” Hopefully that satisfied Bottom’s endless-

“That will require a most dramatic performance to earn some tears. I shall perform with such feeling and vigilance that the audience will cry a thousand storms. Though I must admit, a tyrant is more my strength but I am just as suited for a lover. I shall do my very best to make the audience feel something. How about this: How my heart yearns-”

“Wonderful. Now, Francis Flute, the bellows-mender? Are you present?” Quince moved swiftly on, ignoring the hurt look on Bottom’s face.

At the mention of his name, a younger man stepped forward. He was a beanpole in stature, with a long scarf wrapped around his neck. “Yes, Peter Quince.”

“Excellent. Flute, you shall take the role of Thisbe.”

Flute paused a moment before questioning, “And, erm, what is Thisbe? Is he a nobleman as well? Or perhaps he is a brave knight?” His voice raised in hope.

“No no, Thisbe is the lady Pyramus loves, of course.”

Flute’s face dropped as fear filled him. “Please no. I can not play a woman! I… I erm…” He desperately searched for an excuse. “I… have a beard.” Everyone’s eyes moved to focus on Flute’s smooth chin. “Coming.”

As always, Bottom had a suggestion for this situation. “Worry not, for I can play Thisne as well. I shall wear a mask and speak first as Pyramid.” He put on a deep voice briefly. “’Thisne, my love, I shall come to thee.’ And then I can reply,” now he put on a high, shrieking voice, “’Pyramid! My dear, is that you?’ And thus, I shall play both roles.” Finishing, Bottom gave a confident grin, proud of his performance.

“Bottom, you jester. You can not play both of the lovers. It will be most confusing.” Quince replied.

For a moment, Bottom thought on this. “Perhaps you are right, Quince. But how about this, if Flute is not comfortable with playing the role of Thisne, then I shall play that part and Flute shall have my role of Pyramid. Would that satisfy us all?”

Quince looked to Flute for his opinion. Flute gave an eager nod, the look of relief obvious. With a sigh, he gave in. “Very well, Bottom shall play the lady, _Thisbe_ and Flute shall play the lover, _Pyramus_.” He took care to emphasise the correct names. “Can we now continue?”

The company happily nodded their consent.

“Very well. Robin Starveling, the tailor? You shall be Thisbe’s mother.”

Starveling gave a gruff “Thank you,” in acknowledgment. He was a large man, also well dressed. It was lucky he was a tailor as no one else’s clothes would fit. His pockets overflowed with thread and pins lined his lapels.

“Tom Snout, the handyman? You’ll be Pyramus’ father.” Tom Snout was a fairly average bloke. The scruffy hair on his head was greying slightly and his hands were often bandaged. He had a ‘speak less, work more’ attitude which made him an excellent listener.

“I shall play the role of Thisbe’s father and Snug the joiner? You have the luck to play the lion’s part. Now is everyone ready?” There were general nods of approval and everyone was about to move on when Snug found his voice. Snug had a small stature, a knack for vanishing into crowds, and an almost child-like attitude. This was not helped by his high-pitched voice.

“Quince? Quince? Do you by any chance happen to have the lion’s part written down yet? It’s just that I’m quite bad at, I mean I’m not very quick at learning lines and I would really like to get started so that I know everything.” Snug shifted his weight and fiddled with his hat while waiting for a response.

“Fear not, the lion’s part is only roaring.”

This piqued Bottom’s interest. “Only roaring? Oh, please let me play the- “

A glare from Quince.

“Let me… _help_ you with the roaring as it is one of my many skills. I have a most fearsome and intimate roar!” Bottom proceeded to demonstrate said roar. It was a decent noise, low and throaty. For a minute, the group was impressed until Bottom’s throat complained, causing him to collapse into a fit of coughs.

Snug was thankful for this distraction as he had begun mimicking the noise his own roar and was currently making small mewling sounds and feeling ashamed.

Once Bottom had recovered, having been fetched a cup of water, Quince gave his opinion of the performance. “Bottom, my good fellow, you’re roaring is too loud and… abrasive. You would frighten the ladies; the Duchess would have our heads. But perhaps you could tutor Snug if he wishes.” Snug gave an eager nod.

“Very well. Any other issues or queries?” Quince looked over the group with a smile and prayed that Bottom keeps his mouth shut. Thankfully, he was too busy preening from the praise to comment. “You all have your parts. We shall meet again tomorrow eve, in the wood’s grove. Please, do not fail me and we will produce a most spectacular play. Good evening, gentlemen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favourite chapters to write so far because I love all the play members. They are so silly and dumb.  
> Also, any spelling errors or mistakes in Bottom's dialogue is on purpose as he does that in the original text and I love that he is so full of himself but not very smart.  
> As always, let me know what you think :)  
> Also, sorry for the wait! I have just moved to uni so I had freshers week and now lectures have started so I don't know if I'll be better or worse at uploading. I do have more written but I don't know how quickly I'll run out of stuff that's ready. If I'm lucky, I'll have some wild super productive writing sessions! Probs a bit too hopeful though.


	4. The Squabbling Royalty - A2S1P1

As night began to fall, a soft wind blew through the woods, disturbing the leaves. This, in turn, disturbed a small mischievous sprite who had been waiting for something to happen. What exactly, he didn’t know but he figured if he waited something had to happen eventually.

Pushing the noisy leaves out of his face, Puck saw that his patience had paid off. Which was lucky because he didn’t have much patience and was only quite bored. Straightening his floral waistcoat, Puck approached the two elegant fairies that had entered the clearing. They startled on seeing him, wings flapping in irritation. Their flowing skirts swayed with the breeze.

“What are two lovely ladies doing in the woods so late? An answer from you, I do await. So if you be not a tease, my intention is but simply to please.” Puck gave a deep bow with an excessive flourish of his hand.

“We are daughters of Titania, gathering dew and flowers as is her command. We have no need of you but for conversation and I am finding that quite dull.” The older of the two fairies stated curtly. She turned back to the bushes and resumed her work.

“Excuse me, sir,” The smaller fairy now spoke up, ignoring the glare of the first. The innocence and curiosity were plain on her face. “Would you be that most mischievous of sprites Robin Goodfellow? I have heard of such a fool meddling in mortal affairs nearby recently. Is that you?”

“My dear, it seems you are in luck for I am one by name of Puck. The stories are true, I am often bored, and the mortals are all too easily lured.” He hid his mouth while saying this as if imparting a secret. It made the fairy giggle softly, the two ignoring the grunts and glares from the working fairy. Puck continued, with a glint in his eye, “Now you know me, and if it’s all the same, might I know your lovely name?”

A light blush dusted Peppercorn’s cheeks as she replied, “My name is Peppercorn, but to many, I’m just Pepper, and I’m most pleased to make your acquaintance though I think Mustardseed would rather we hadn’t met.” Mustardseed was pointedly ignoring the two and their conversation.

“Then I too shall call you Pepper. I hope you’ll let me know you better.” Puck gave a wink. He had reached out to take her hand when Mustard decided enough was enough and took hold of Pepper’s arm herself.

“Come on, Peppercorn. It does not do well to listen to whispers in the woods.” She continued to ignore Puck’s presence. “We should return or Titania will wonder where we are.” She walked off, pulling Pepper with her. Peppercorn tried to resist, looking back and pleading to be released.

With a sorry expression, Puck shrugged. “I’m afraid your uptight friend is right. You and your queen best hide tonight. You see my master, King Oberon, would rather wish that she be gone. Yes sadly, you of the fairy queen, had best leave and be not seen. I’m sure your spoilsport friend will know why it is you all must go.” He grinned at Pepper when Mustard stood still.

However, it was not from anger at the insults cast her way, they realised. A form was approaching from the same direction the fairies had entered.

Puck was first to regain his voice. “We are too late. Perhaps it’s fate. Pepper, I bid you farewell, my sweet.” He gave another deep bow and blew a kiss at Pepper. “But for now, fairy royalty meet.” And with that, he scampered away to Oberon, who was also approaching the clearing.

As Titania approached her followers, a wave of relief washed over her. After scanning them for signs of woe and hearing their assurances, she looked over at the sprite she had seen. To her dismay, her eyes met with those of Oberon.

“Ill met by moonlight, Proud Titania. What brings you to these woods tonight?” Oberon’s form was tightly wrapped in dark green leather. The hair on his head was thinning but he hadn’t seemed to realise when styling it. He was joined only by Puck who stood smiling, waving at the ladies.

“Pleasant evening, isn’t it. I may ask what you’re doing too. Especially so close to Athens and so near the wedding.” She didn’t look at Oberon as she spoke, instead admiring one of the flowers Mustardseed had given her. “Perhaps without my company, you have decided to interfere with the wedding. It could be thought that you want the bride to be to be your bride.” With this, she finally looked at him, her look of displeasure lessened by the hint of playfulness.

Oberon felt the rage build in him but no reply came. The fairies giggled to themselves as he stood there, mouth moving as his brain raced. A small whisper from Puck finally urged him to speak. “A curious theory Titania. I didn’t know you saw truth in rumours, or am I to believe that you are in love with the groom, Theseus?” Oberon wore a proud smirk, thoroughly pleased with his retort. It was an unpleasant idea but it was just an insult and not necessarily the truth. Probably. Hopefully.

Titania gave a gentle chuckle at both the accusation and Oberon’s face. “Of course not. We are both too sensible to believe such fanciful tales. She moved closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Come, let us join the festive mood. It has been a while since we have shared company, and I do miss it dearly. Let us dance the night away. My bower is not far from her.” She seemed to be praying to herself, hoping he’d agree.

“I would be thrilled to join you,” Oberon began and Titania’s heart lifted but he continued, “If you were to give me the Indian prince you keep.” He was once again wearing the smug grin and seemed very pleased.

The reaction was instant. Titania drew back, breaking contact and fixing him with a cold look. She searched for a sign that he was joking but he was serious about the deal. “You know I can’t do that. I’d hoped we could move past this by now but it seems I expected too much from you.” She looked at him, pleading. They had argued over this many times. “I cannot give you the boy.”

“Why must you disobey me so? I have no ill will towards the boy. It is a simple request, love.” He emphasised the nickname. “I just want the boy as my henchman. An apprentice if you will. Surely you can do that?”

Titania gave an exhausted sigh. “The boy’s mother was a devout worshipper and very close… friend of mine.” Her voice was quiet, sad. She stared at the flower she held. “She died during childbirth. It is my duty to raise the boy in her honour. Why can’t you understand?” She looked to Oberon, eyes glistening, before turning to walk away. Peppercorn and Mustardseed rushed to her side, leading her away.

“Fine.” Oberon spoke abruptly. “Have it your way. Go. Enjoy the night. Alone.” Then, rather like a stroppy toddler, Oberon the King of Fairies crossed his arms, turned around, and stomped his foot. Perhaps he had hoped to persuade Titania by invoking pity at how unfair the situation was for him. Maybe he thought her fairies would come to his side and offer him their comfort. Instead, he was now frowning at Puck who looked at him in amusement.

Titania had stopped her retreat. “I see. Goodnight then, Oberon.” The disappointment was deafening. She left, pausing only once more to look over her shoulder; her last moment of hope.

Oberon grunted.

Titania left with her head hung low.


End file.
